


All This Waiting

by summerstorm



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-07
Updated: 2009-08-07
Packaged: 2017-10-05 11:03:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerstorm/pseuds/summerstorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time they almost had this fight was at the first show she came to. (...) At that first show, he said, "I kinda miss you," except he was going to say he kinda missed her off-key singing in the shower, and knowing she'd be wearing her reading glasses when he got home, and holding her close through the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All This Waiting

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://community.livejournal.com/ontd_ai/profile)[**ontd_ai**](http://community.livejournal.com/ontd_ai/)'s third kink meme, prompt 39 - Kris going down on Katy.

Katy got off a plane two hours ago, and they're already fighting.

Kris is barely paying attention, which says very little of his follow-through, since he started the fight himself, for a meaning of the word 'start'. It's not the first time since the tour began that he phrases something nice wrong and Katy gets hurt, but it is the first time she's yelling it all out like this, pacing around their hotel room and yanking things out of her suitcase instead of unpacking properly, constantly running her fingers through her hair.

Kris stands still near the door, watching her, trying to keep up with her words, but mostly just watching her.

The first time they almost had this fight was at the first show she came to. She was wearing those comfy boots that always make Kris miss her college days, when giving her foot massages was part of their weekend routine. She'd walk through the door and straight into the shower, and then she'd lay herself out on her bed, or his bed, depending on the weekend, always with a notebook and a pen, and her toes would wriggle and stretch and Kris would sit next to her, run her fingers along her thigh until she bent her knees and let him hold her ankles, smiling abashedly to give him an out.

Kris has never wanted an out.

At that first show, he said, "I kinda miss you," except he was going to say he kinda missed her off-key singing in the shower, and knowing she'd be wearing her reading glasses when he got home, and holding her close through the night.

Katy chuckled and said, "That's truly, incredibly romantic. I think it's the 'kinda' that makes the line so special and gut-wrenching," except it sounded like she missed him, too, and she was naked on his lap, riding him, busy being a total vision - head falling back, raspy breathing, a hand reaching down to wrap around the base of Kris's cock and run her fingertips along his balls - so he didn't really think it was serious.

He didn't really think that much at all.

Then they got into more of an argument in Little Rock, because they were in Arkansas and he hadn't had time to jerk off in two days and she was hormonal or something, and after signing some stuff for the fans, he went back to the room where she'd been waiting, placed his hands around her waist, and said, "I've missed you," loud and clear, straight to the point. Honest.

"Don't you ever get bored of saying that?" his brother mentioned, because he's an ass, and Katy said, "Yeah, don't you get tired of that? It's always 'I miss you' and 'I've missed you' and 'I'll miss you', all the damned time," and she had a straight face and he couldn't even tell if she was serious, and then Daniel raised an eyebrow, said, "I'm just gonna leave you two alone," and Kris wanted to smack him, but was too confused to focus on his rage.

When he looked back at Katy, Katy's mouth turned into a wide, amused grin, and she leaned up to kiss him, a quick peck on the lips, then her tongue carefully parting them and licking in.

He really shouldn't have said anything. He should have kept kissing her, taken advantage of the fact that they were in a room together and no one was bothering them. Instead, he pulled away and asked, "Were you serious about the - I mean, do you really think - "

"Oh, my God," she said, switching back to annoyance, and let out a long-suffering sigh. "I don't know. Maybe."

"Maybe what?"

"Maybe I was serious, Kris, I don't _know_. We keep _missing_ each other. That's not what I signed up for when I married you," and Kris thought, yeah, he definitely should have kept kissing her, except if something was wrong he wanted to _know_, and Katy was running her fingers through her hair again, and then his handler came by to drag him to some interview, and he didn't have time to fix things with Katy before the show.

Which is why it's all coming out now, in a hotel room in Memphis with soundproof walls, and he's standing there like an idiot, shocked to see so much anger coming out of such a small person.

When Katy wants to discuss something important, she usually stays calm, rational. She lists what's wrong, explains why, and listens to him run over his side of the issue. Their relationship has lasted this long because they communicate, they know where they stand with regards to each other, and this - the screaming, the blame-placing, the lack of rationalizing things - is totally throwing him. It's not that they've never had stupid fights before; of course they have. It's the fact that they're having an illogical fight over something that they probably _should_ discuss, something that Katy could actually be pissed about and that Kris would understand if she was.

Katy just yells at him, though, saying something about shopping, and then she grabs her room card, throws it in her bag, and storms out.

They have to go to Graceland in an hour and she just stormed out.

He feels bad for not knowing what's going on, because they've been together for so long he _should_ have some things figured out, like how to tell if Katy's genuinely mad at him; if they really have a problem or she's just in a bad mood.

They don't see much of each other while he does press for the day and gets shown around FedExForum and rehearses and talks to the fans and overall has the exact same day as every other day this summer, except for some reason he can always tell them apart in his head. He figures that means this is the right life for him, and it's definitely the kind of life he wants, and Katy's definitely the kind of girl who can deal with it. Katy's the only girl he wants to deal with it.

She shows up for the Graceland tour, but spends most of it ignoring him. She's not giving him the silent treatment, exactly, because she's not five, but she's quiet and intentionally staying far away from him, pretending to see things she wants to inspect closer when he comes into a five-foot radius of her, and -

\- and suddenly it dawns on him why she may be like this.

He takes a step back.

*

He makes sure not to lose her in the mob before the show starts, and after that it all comes pretty naturally - grasping at her elbow, hand sliding down to hold her hand until she lifts her eyebrows at him. He shrugs and tries not to smile.

It's easy enough to find a room that's empty, clean and has some comfortable furniture - mostly chairs, but also a couple of couches and a table, an ashtray with a half-smoked cigar lying on top of it - and when he does, he drags Katy in, turns on the light, and locks the door.

"What are you doing?" she asks, not without reason, and he puts his hands in his pockets and walks towards the couch. Takes a deep breath.

"You wanted to work," he mentions softly, not sure how it's going to go over, but almost sure it's the right way to get a rise out of Katy.

It goes over - badly, to say the least, except this is what he wanted, so technically it goes over fantastically well. First comes a string of pointed comments about how every show she goes to see is days she takes off _her_ work to see _his_ work, and then he joins in, shouting back about how he never asked her to follow him around, how they've done the long-distance thing before and if they can't make it through an afternoon together, how are they going to make it through their entire lives, and that goes over exactly the way he expected it to.

He's enjoying this. He's enjoying this for the same reason she's been on edge all week, and he's not sure whether she's snapped at him so often on purpose or just to release tension, but this - this is definitely what they've been building up towards. For lack of anything pointless to argue about, he thinks, or for lack of anything pointless big enough to be worth wasting the little time they have together.

He's right about this. One second she's bitchfacing at him, yelling, "Are you _blaming_ me for us not seeing each other? 'Cause I wasn't the one who decided to go off and have a Great Big Adventure," airquotes bitter as hell, the conversation going back to where it started, and the next she's biting her lip in anger and jumping at him, making him stumble backwards onto the soft cushions of the couch.

Her mouth's on his immediately afterwards, half laughing while she gets rid of his shirt and unbuttons his jeans, takes off her own bra. It's the kind of kiss that's got other things in mind, and Katy's panting over him, about to pull off her dress when he stops her, because they're in a semi-public place, and because he wants her wearing something for this.

Her head falls back when he buries his face between her tits, tugging at the edge of the dress so he can suck on one of her gorgeous pink nipples until it hardens, and she whimpers, hips bucking against his dick through several layers of clothing.

He hisses, and she looks down at him, the heavy breathing masking the worry there. He stares back, licks his lips until her gaze shifts to look at them, and god, he just wants to keep her there, over him, riding him - except he wants her higher up his body, riding his face.

He wants to say it, but it always seems improper to talk to her that way - not because she's a delicate little flower, but because it sounds like he's objectifying her - so he steals a quick lick of her tongue before going back to her tits, pinching one nipple while he nibbles at the other through green fabric, and he starts to slide off the couch, mouthing his way down her tits and her stomach, as far as her dress will let him.

Eventually most of his weight's on his feet and Katy's straddling his chest; he has one hand spread over her belly under her dress, and it's easy enough now to work his arms under her legs and drag her closer, each of her knees at each side of his shoulders, pale skin digging into the dark cushions like some freaking minimalist work of art.

He clenches his fist around a handful of her dress and drags it over her hip until Katy gets the hint and quickly ties it back below her ribs. Her hands leap to the back of the couch to hold herself up over Kris's face, and she whimpers when he nuzzles at her pussy through the wet cotton of her panties.

"Kris," she murmurs, "we shouldn't," and he nudges at her clit with his nose, taking in the smell of soap and cloth and arousal, so clear under everything else, so addictive that there's no way he could not do it at this point, no way he could hold himself back from biting her thigh and yanking her underwear down, pulling at the elastic as far as it will go so Katy won't have to stop straddling his face to get them off.

She shivers when the AC blows over her lower belly, and accidentally presses herself down on Kris's mouth. He hums against her pussy for a few moments, just to be a tease, and she gasps, "Kris, come on," which sounds bossier than it should, he thinks fleetingly, and then realizes that it sounds just as bossy as it should, because it's Katy, and because it's Katy riding his face, and his mouth is practically watering at the - the presence, the slickness over his lower lip, first, then his tongue when it slips out to taste her.

He gives a couple of slow licks, opening her up, and circles her entrance with the tip of his tongue until she shifts over him and his nose hits her clit, making her hips buck forward, spreading wetness over his face, his chin. He licks her clit once, just to see her belly weave, and reaches between her legs with his hand, easily sliding two fingers inside her and fucking her with them until she's grinding down, trying to get closer to his mouth.

His fingers feel cold once they're outside of her, though he recovers most of the warmth when he holds her thighs, fingertips digging into her flesh from behind, and then his tongue's rubbing against where she needs him, and she's letting out short, broken moans, like she doesn't want to be loud, but she is loud. She's always been loud, and it's always an extra thrill when she doesn't want to be, when she's trying to stifle the sounds.

Having her over him like this is amazing - being able to stroke the soft skin of her thighs from this angle, knowing she has to hold herself up, make an effort - and he loves how he can feel it when he does something right, how she'll grind down harder, or release some of her weight off the couch, hands readjusting to prop herself up and ride his mouth more comfortably.

He loves her on top, how she always ends up panting like she's running a marathon, the sound filling his ears, growing louder and more irregular as she gets closer. When she comes, she goes still and falls silent, a sudden void of distraction that lets Kris hear each intake of breath in time with the quaky tide of her orgasm washing over his mouth.

She's still breathing heavily, leaning down to kiss him, to taste herself in his mouth, when he realizes just how hard he is. It's almost painful, because his jeans are not all the way off, and his briefs are not off at all, and he can't reach around his wife to free his cock or jerk off. If she wanted him to do that, her knees wouldn't be sliding off the couch at both sides of his body - she wouldn't be licking a trail down his chest and grazing his skin on purpose with her hard nipples.

She smiles up at him, says, "What do you want?" and he shrugs and mutters, "Anything," and she looks around and gives up and slides down between his legs, kneeling before him and immediately yanking his jeans and underwear all the way off.

She settles between his thighs, so damned _slow_, and he reaches down to give his cock a few tugs while he waits. She slaps his hand away, though, and ducks to replace it, tongue slipping out to spread pre-come over the head and lick down to the base, make the skin slick enough for her lips to settle shallowly around the head.

Her mouth stays there; she doesn't try to take any more of his cock in. She wraps her fingers around him instead, her other hand fluttering over his stomach, down to his hipbone as she starts jerking him fast, perfectly aware that they don't have time for romance. She keeps that hand moving and her mouth sucking rhythmically on the head, occasionally licking around it, while her free fingers run along his thigh and down to his balls, cupping them and squeezing gently a few times, enough to get him going before she draws them away, slows down for a second, pulls her mouth off of him.

"Katy," he begs, "Katy, please," and one of her fingertips brushes his balls again, just for a second before she drags it a bit lower, presses down on the sensitive spot just below.

Her hold on his cock tightens, and she picks up the rhythm again until Kris is _talking_, going on about nothing, completely unaware of what he's saying, almost sure none of it makes any sense.

Katy leans down to kiss the tip of his cock just as he's thrusting up, and she follows his hips back down with her mouth, making an 'o' over his cock to - _fuck_, to _swallow_, and he gets that it's the tidy thing to do, the wise thing to do, but she's looking up at him, fist pumping harder like she wants to squeeze his orgasm into her mouth, to drink him in, and that's - that's _exactly_ what it is, and that's exactly why he's coming, his thighs held down by Katy's hands, his face still slick with her when he licks around his lips and her throat working quickly, audible once the rush in his ears subsides.

She does something with her shoulders that may be a tiny shrug as she hops to her feet, knees wobbly. Kris makes the inhuman effort of sitting up and grasping at those knees, tugging until she's sitting on his lap, picking Kris's clothes up off the floor while he does his best to fix a dress and put a bra on a moving creature.

"So it is okay to miss you," Kris mentions when he's half-dressed again, a little groggy. He tries to keep his back upright, drown the desire to go back to the hotel now instead of once the show's over and he's met 'n' greeted some fans.

Katy blinks a few times, adjusting her eyes to life. "It's kinda mandatory, I think," she mumbles, too low to have the effect her sarcasm usually does, and her body rolls slow and heavily around until she spots her shoes. She almost trips over the coffee table on her way to collect them.

"So all the yelling and snappiness, that was—" Kris begins, hoping he was right. She sits next to him and kisses him on the cheek, leaning over to grab her panties from the other side of the couch.

"Nothing major," Katy says offhandedly, "bit of anxiety. You didn't get that?"

He didn't get that, exactly, but what he got is harder to explain, and he thinks that's what Katy's doing, too, compressing everything, so he says, "No, yeah. Just took me a while."

It's just - the lack of spare time, all of that. That's why she'd avoid him. Missing someone gets easier when it's gone on for a while. Missing someone _is_ easier when they're somewhere you can't reach out and touch.

He walks out with her, relieved the hallway's deserted. He wraps an arm around her waist and she leans her head on his shoulder as she walks him to where everyone else is. They have a void conversation about fanmade gifts and Katy's dress and how people are going to speculate about baby bumps again, and she wonders out loud how many more buttons it will take for him to leave his shirt open down to his navel, and then she begs him please not to ever embarrass her with something tacky like that.

When they part ways, she holds his hand tighter, turns to face him and says, "I miss you too. Kinda," and she slaps his butt and hops away.

He almost says it back, but she's already out of sight, and there's a fundamental flaw in it. He misses her presence, sure, misses being around her more often, but - wherever she is, wherever they are - he always knows he's got her.


End file.
